


Captain Hook

by defyaugury



Series: We Rise with the Tides [1]
Category: Descendants (2015), Descendants 2 - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, So much angst, bondage i guess?, gay so gay, harry just wants to be like his dad guys, mentions of domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:19:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defyaugury/pseuds/defyaugury
Summary: Uma is gone and now all that's left of that night is a pawn shop hook and Gil's worried eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [werelocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/werelocked/gifts).



> Otherwise known as the au where Harry looses his father's hook and pays the price. Uma leaves and now Harry has to figure out how to be a captain and his first decision is to kidnap Ben again.
> 
> Blame werelocked for this, also if you like this go check out their Harry fic it's sooooooo good!!

The Eastside Isle Harbor was as rotted and foul-smelling as ever. Ships creaked, their hauls being smashed into the docks by the relentless winds. Tattered and stained sails snapped in the gale, soaked through as the storm continued to rage. All throughout the Isle, people scurried for cover from the slashing rains and howling winds. The Harbor had it the worst, with the raging sea swelling to swallow more and more of the smaller boats.

Normally, the Isle never saw many storms thanks to the barrier that surrounded them. Which meant the ones they did see had to come from the Isle itself.

Harry Hook barely noticed the storm of the century as he sat at the head of the long table in Ursula's Fish & Chips, his right hand splayed on the table in front of him next to a cold plate of fried fish. The restaurant was emptier than usual, the only customers being what was left of Uma's gang—well, Harry thought, now _his_ gang. They were howling as usual, swinging from chandeliers and slinging bootlegged rum at each other. They kept pouring ones out for their long-gone captain, but Harry didn't even bother to remind them that she wasn't, in fact, dead, and that Uma had never liked rum in the first place. She said it messed with her plotting—made it hard for her to think.

A half empty glass sat between Harry's legs—his fourth one tonight. He didn't want to think.

Every now and then, he could feel a pair of eyes on him, haunting him like a chill, and he knew Gil was looking at him, glancing his way every now and then to make sure he was okay. Harry ignored him and took another swig from his glass, slamming the empty drink down next to his left hand—or rather what would have been his left hand.

The faintest glint of silver catches the dim light of the restaurant. A hook. A hook, but no hand.

Harry stared at it, a storm just as furious as the one outside raging inside his head.

Jay. It'd been Jay that'd thrown the hook off the pier. The disgusting street rat had thrown it overboard without a clue as to knowing what it was worth. And it'd been Harry that'd nearly drowned trying to get it back. Uma had to drag him from the ocean herself as he coughed up water and screamed— _screamed_ that he was going to kill Jay as Mal and her gang escaped.

It'd been his fault— _his_ fault that they'd gotten away. That he, the son of the greatest pirate captain on the seas, couldn't win a sword fight, _his_ fault he'd lost his father's hook.

The next few days, Harry had barely felt present. He'd watched the cotillion pass in a haze, not quite certain he knew what was happening. He was furious, so furious with himself he'd simply shut down rather than let anyone see it. Both his sisters were captains of their own ships already, ruling their own crews, and sailing what little sea they could between the Isle's shores and the barrier walls.

And Harry? Well, Harry had never been anything but a first mate. That hook had been _everything_ to him. His only tie to his father, the only, _only_ way to connect with him, to earn his respect and pride. It'd been a responsibility, a test to see if he was truly worthy of the Hook name, and he'd lost it.

The night after the cotillion, Harry had stolen a hook from Jafar's pawn shop and found himself in the cramped kitchen of Ursula's Fish & Chips. The dim lights had flickered as Harry sat at the scrubbed table in the center of the kitchen. A pan sizzled on the stove. The hook—a cheap tin knock-off that could never compare to what he'd lost, rested on the table as Harry stared at it.

He remembered when he was eight, and had managed to find Tick-Tock slumbering in the shallows of a cove on the edge of the Isle. The stick he'd found was long and sturdy and had been quite effective in waking the sleeping crocodile. He could remember the sound the jaws had made when they snapped shut, the weight of the tail as it had caught him round the middle and flung him into the wall. He could remember the sharp sting of razor claws. Harry hadn't managed to loose his hand that day, but he had nearly lost his head.

This time, he wouldn't fail.

The knife he'd grabbed from the kitchen block was old, dirtied, and a little dull, but it would work. A chopping block was in front of him, his jacket slung over his chair and his bare forearm laid before him as he gripped the edge of the block with his left hand. He could hear the blood roaring through his ears, loud as the sea, and his heart thundering in his chest as he held the knife in his other hand. A bead of sweat ran down his temple.

But the knife didn't fall. Instead, the door opened, and there in the kitchen soaked in sea water, stood Harry's captain. She'd abandoned the stupid princess dress from the cotillion, back in her own clothes, her captain's hat firmly on her head where it belonged.

Uma saw Harry, knife in hand, and Harry expected her to say something or stop him, but she didn't. Instead, she walked across the kitchen and pulled a rag from a drawer.

"You'll need this," she said, tossing the rag to Harry.

Harry caught and stared down at it. Uma slid up to sit on the kitchen counter, watching Harry as he twisted the rag in his hands before gripping it between his teeth. She watched as he clutched the chopping block again and raised the knife, biting the rag as hard as he could. Harry looked up at his captain and met her eyes, dark as a storm, as she watched him. For the first time in his life, he didn't ask her permission.

Uma kept watching as the knife fell.

She never said a word as Harry screamed through his gag. She was just as quiet as she moved out of the way and let Harry run his bleeding arm under the sink tap, sweat and tears running down his face, breathing hard through the pain. A river of red ran down the drain.

It wasn't until Harry was wrapping his stumped arm in a rag, pale as a ghost and shaking in cold sweat, that he was able to meet her eyes again. She glanced at Harry's arm—seeping blood—before looking back up at him. Silently, she took her hat off and slid it onto the counter next to Harry's hook before turning for the door.

"Just make sure not to lose the other one," she said, without a glance back. "It's hard to steer a ship with no hands."

Harry's sight kept fading in and out of focus, but as he watched Uma walk away, he could hear the pounding of frantic boots. The next second, Gil was in the doorway, his eyes wide, his face flushed.

"Harry!"

Gil made to move towards Harry, but Uma seized him by the collar and forced him back against the wall.

" _Don't_ help him," she hissed.

"Uma, he's going to die!" Gil begged, looking frantically at Harry, red splashed all down his front. "How could you let him do this?"

"Gil, you help him, and I swear I'll push you off the plank myself," Uma warned. She glanced over her shoulder. "He needs to do this on his own."

Gil looked on the verge of tears, but he wouldn't dare disobey his captain as he watched Harry stumble to the stove and the sizzling pan. He could feel as his knees began to shake and his remaining fingers started to feel cold. There was so much blood, and it wouldn't stop. He needed it to stop. Still clenching the rag in his teeth, Harry shoved his stump to the hot pan. Harry choked on a scream, grateful for the gag and Gil's own scream to drown it out. He held his arm to the pan until the handle slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

His knees gave out as the kitchen went dark. He would've hit the floor if Gil hadn't have caught him.

* * *

When Harry came to, Uma was gone, leaving Harry the captain's hat and command of the crew. Ursula had been storming—quite literally—since then, furious her daughter had left with the cash from the register and no one to cover her shifts. Harry had the vague thought that Uma was lucky to be gone, lest she have to face her mother's wrath.

Now all that was left of that night was a pawn shop hook and Gil's worried eyes.

Harry should have been thrilled. He was a _captain_. He had a _hook_ for a _hand_. He'd never been more like his father.

And yet...for some reason, he felt empty. He looked at his hook, but it didn't look right. It was too dull, too obviously not the same pure silver of his father's. And, yes, he was captain, but that meant Uma was gone. And as much as he'd hate to admit it, Mal was right. He wasn't sure what to do without his oldest friend. He wasn't sure how to be a captain.

Harry looked up to find an unexpected sight. The king of Auradon, right in front of him. Well, not literally, of course, but a long-forgotten poster from the cotillion, slashed and inked and half-hanging off the wall, with the king's face on it. The king—ha, what an idea. That little imp looked barely able to run a ship, much less a country—and yet...

Harry tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the poster. The chair screeched as he stood up and walked around the table towards the poster, his hook dragging along the wooden table top beside him. He stopped in front of the poster, staring at the king's graffitied face. What had been his name again? Barry? Brad? Ben? Ah, yes: Ben.

Ben the King. The boy king that ran all of Auradon—when he wasn't in _class_ like the good little boy he was. The king that Mal and her squids were willing to risk their lives for. The king that, he was sure if Mal hadn't escaped, the kingdom would have been willing to trade a _wand_ for.

A memory filtered into Harry's ears. Something he'd heard a long, long time ago when he'd been very young and very stupid.

"What does a pirate captain _do_?" Harriet, his older sister, repeated his question, laughing as she shoved him to the ground. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Captains lead!" CJ, the youngest piped up, swinging a wooden sword around Harry's head so that he had to duck. "Captains conquer and take what isn't theirs!"

"And they fight!" Harriet said, smacking Harry upside the head.

"And scare people!" CJ said, giggling as she hopped next to her sister.

"No, they _kill_ people," Harriet said with a roll of her eyes.

"Dad never killed anyone," CJ muttered with a pout.

"Well, Dad is a terrible pirate," Harriet huffed. "He couldn't even kill Peter Pan."

"No!"

The two sisters stopped arguing and looked at little Harry as he got to his feet, his face furious.

"Dad is the best pirate that ever was!" he said, his little fists curled.

At that Harriet let out a laugh and shoved her brother into the dirt once more.

"Okay, fine!" she said bending down to sneer in his face. "Then one day, you can be just like him. And then I can kill both of you."

A slow grin spread across Harry's face as he continued to stare at the poster, a dozen cogs finally clicking together to form an idea. Without warning, Harry's hook slammed into the poster, the point burying deep into King Ben's face. He barely noticed the jolt of pain that shot up his arm from his unhealed stub.

"Oh, yes, pretty boy," Harry whispered. "I'm comin' for you."

When Harry ripped his hook away, Ben's face came with it.

Harry spun around, smoothly stepping to chair, then table, striding down it like a true villain.

"Come on boys!" he shouted. "We're setting sail!"

A cheer went up, accompanied by sloshing rum. Uma's crew swarmed to follow after their new captain as he strode towards the door and the storm still raging outside.

"Harry!"

Harry barely noticed as Gil caught up to him and stumbled to fall in step beside him.

"That's Captain Harry," Harry said.

"Yes, Captain, sorry," Gil said. "What're you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious, my dear Gil?" Harry asked, grinning as he brought his hook up and wagged the piece of poster still stuck to it in Gil's face.

"We're going to kidnap the king."


	2. Chapter 2

Waves, tall as mountains, slammed into the ship's haul, thrashing it back and forth as if it were nothing more than a toy in a child's bath. "The Ocean's Revenge" was putting up a good fight with the help of her crew, but Ursula's storms weren't known for being gentle.

"Belay that!" Harry shouted, tossing a line to one of his crew.

Water flooded the deck and soaked their clothes. The howling wind made it difficult to hear, but that wouldn't stop Harry from being a damn good captain.

"Pete, to the aft; you need to turn her leeward. Lora, tie off the stay! And Gil—!" Harry barked, seizing his first mate by the collar as he ran by before dragging the both of them down to hit the dec. In the next second, a massive beam, thick as Harry himself, swept over the two of them with enough speed to remove a head.

"Watch the boom," Harry finished, grinning wide as he pulled Gil to his feet again.

The "Revenge" continued to crash through the waves, her haul barely skimming the barrier's wall. A manic smile painted Harry's face as he ran to the bow and leapt onto the prow. His hook around a line as he leaned out over the raging waters.

Rain cut at his face, the winds threatening to pitch him overboard. The winds made him deaf and the cold soaked him to the bone. It was the best feeling in the world.

Harry grinned as he screamed into the storm, rain streaming down his face. The thunder and the ocean roared back at him and Harry laughed.

Nights like this were better than gold to Harry—nights where the sea was wild and deadly. It was a night like this that Harry had met his captain.

It had been storming just as hard that night, the waves smashing boats to pieces against the cliff's face. Harry had always loved to watch the sea during storms, to watch as she raged unstoppable with nothing to hold her back. But that night, Harry had found more than huge waves and roiling skies. Instead, he'd found something just as wild.

A girl, smaller than even Harry at that age, back-lit by lightning and drenched in rain, screaming atop the tallest cliff on the coast. Her clothes were stained and torn, her hair soaked, and her face distinctly puffing from crying. Harry swore he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Without a second thought, Harry had ran up next to her and started screaming into the gail. As soon as he did, the wild girl stopped and turned to glare at him.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Harry stopped screaming to look at her, grinning as his heart thundered in his chest.

"I'm screaming at the storm with you," he said, breathless.

The girl pushed him hard in the chest and Harry stumbled back.

"I'm not screaming at the storm," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm yelling at my mom."

Harry's eyes grew wide as he turned to look out at the raging storm.

"Your mom did this?" he asked in awe. Surely the daughter of such a powerful sea witch was not one to be trifled with.

The girl's glower deepened. "She's mad I wasn't in her shop to clean the dishes," she said. She looked barely tall enough to reach the sink. "It's pretty much the only time she EVER NOTICES ME!" She finished screaming out at the ocean. Bone-jarring thunder clapped in response.

Harry grinned. "At least she notices you," he said. "I'm sure I could leave forever and my dad would never notice."

The girl spared him a glance, her scowl still in place, though something about it was softer. "That kind of sucks," she admitted, though Harry could just barely hear her over the wind.

He shrugged. "It's okay. He notices my sisters. One day, I'll grow up to be just like him, and then he'll have no choice but to notice me."

The girl eyed him wearily. "You're a little crazy, aren't you?"

Harry could only offer a shrug and nod of his head. That's what most people called him, anyway.

The girl eyed him a bit more before seeming to come to a decision. She tossed her soggy hair over her shoulder and held her chin up. "I'm Uma, daughter of Ursula," she said. "And I need a crew. You can be my first mate."

Harry's eyes lit up. "I'm Harry," he said, automatically dropping into a deep bow. "At your service."

When he stood back up, he just barely caught a glimpse of a smile on Uma's face before the scowl returned. Instead, she held out a hand for Harry to take before they both turned back to the ocean and screamed at it with all their might.

Harry was broken from his revere by another sound. He opened his eyes and looked to see Gil, on deck right behind him, howling into the wind. When he opened his eyes and caught Harry's gaze, the two grinned, laughing as the rain and sea water soaked them to the bone. This was what they loved. This was what it mean to be a pirate. And if Harry felt a small pang in his chest that Uma wasn't there to scream with them? Well, he pushed that deep down and out of the way.

"Where are we going, Captain?" Gil shouted to be heard.

Harry looked back over the prow of the ship. Through the mist and storm, he could just barely make out a glimpse of gold glittering amongst the black. Harry spun, hopping down next to Gil and pulling him close. With his hook, he pointed towards the shimmering gold.

"Right there!" Harry grinned.

"The _bridge_?!" someone behind them called.

Harry spun to find a runt of a squirt behind them, looking incredulously at him. He was the son of Shmee, but to be honest, Harry wasn't even sure he remembered his name—he was a fairly new addition to the crew.

"Are you crazy?!" the kid asked, struggling to keep hold of a jib line.

Harry's grin only grew. "This wouldn't work if I wasn't!"

Harry turned back towards their destination, eyes wide with excitement.

Ever since royal Benny's decree to start bringing more children from the Isle to Auradon, the bridge was practically always up, rather than fading and coming as needed. Endless children were being ferried from the Isle to the mainland—and almost as many were being ferried back.

You see, while Ben's idea might have had great intentions, no one really thought of the monetary strain suddenly sending two-hundred, plus kids to private school fully funded would place on the kingdom. If a few managed to fall between the cracks and flunk out, or started to steal food to survive again because they ran out of rations, or they felt just as lost in a sea of faces as they had back on the Isle and started acting out as most teenagers do, then their bonnie arses were slapped in the first limo back to the Isle. And while Auradon seemed to have accepted Mal and her crew just fine, the upper class still held their prejudices. Every day that passed, more and more kids were brought back to the Isle, with barely a shot at their second chance.

And while that was all sad and sob-story-worthy, that's not what Harry was concerned about. No, what he was concerned about was the minuscule opening that allowed so many limos to and from the Isle. At any time of day, the bridge was almost guaranteed to be up and functional, though heavily guarded, meaning while it might be impossible to sneak your way across or hitch a ride, it might just be possible to barrel your way through—so long as you survived, that is.

As they neared, Harry could make out the distinct shape of the bridge and the bright sky beyond. A wild grin lighting up his face, Harry spun back around and started sprinting down the ship towards the stern, shouting orders as he went.

"Furl the mainsail! Jackson, turn us windward and _mind the boom_!" Harry said, yanking Gil out of the way by the back of his shirt. The boom just sailed by the both of them, again with enough force to decapitate.

Harry leapt up to the poop deck, right next to Jackson at the wheel. He pointed over the boy's shoulder, leaning close as excitement thrilled through his veins. He wasn't entirely sure what awaited them beyond the barrier—whether they'd find freedom, battle, or the gallows—but any of the above had to be better than sitting on this stinking shore one more day.

"Harry!"

Harry looked down to the main deck to find Gil, looking up at him with those same, worried eyes he'd had to suffer through at the chip shop. Harry looked away and back towards their goal. He didn't need pity, especially now. The bridge loomed ever nearer.

" _Harry!_ "

Harry tore his eyes away from the horizon once again. Gil was on the steps up towards the poop deck, his eyes pleading.

"Harry, are you sure about this?"

Harry could feel frustration and anger flare in his chest. He'd never questioned Uma like this, he never had to. So why was Gil questioning him now?

Before Harry could spit out an answer, a wave swelled and hit them from the port side, rocking the ship violently. Jackson was flung to the ground and the wheel left to spin wildly. The "Revenge" began to tilt towards the barrier walls. Harry jumped forward and seized the ship's wheel, fighting against the current with all his might to get them back on track.

"If you can't sail during a storm," Harry barked, kicking Jackson hard in the stomach. "Then you don't belong on a ship!"

"Gil!" Harry ordered, all questions of authority forgotten. "Make sure the rest of the sails are furled! And get yourself a lifeline!"

Gil cast his captain one last concerned glance, but they were so close to the bridge now, there wasn't time to question orders. He ran off down the deck to do as he was told.

The bow of the "Revenge" was barely twenty feet from the bridge now. Harry could feel the ship shudder as they neared the bridge, a warning for them to turn back. A grin split his face. If there was one way to get Harry to definitely do something, it was to give him a warning.

He had the briefest thought of what his dad would think if he could see him now—escaping the Isle to raid and kidnap a kingdom, just like the "good old days" he'd always lecture about. He thought about Uma, and the look on her face if she were here, knowing he was about to escape, that they were about to be free.

The sea surged once more, rain and wind cutting into Harry and his crew.

"HIT THE DECK!" he managed to scream before the prow collided with the bridge.

It was like hitting a wall. The entire ship lurched. Anyone who wasn't already flat against the deck were certainly there now. Harry could hear wood splintering and beam snapping as he fought to keep the wheel straight, and yet the "Revenge" did not stop. She kept surging forward, as unstoppable as the sea herself.

The bridge crumbled under the ship's prow—reinforced with Uma's special brand of magic. A high pitched screaming sound that Harry assumed to be the barrier ripping open to accommodate the rest of the ship pierced the air.

And then it was over. The "Revenge" fell into calm waters, the storm and the barrier behind them, submerging everything in an eerie quiet.

Having been knocked down to his knees, Harry pulled himself up by the ship's wheel. Black skies stretched high overhead, glittering with stars. The night sea looked as calm as glass, and in the distance, he could make out the glowing lights of Auradon.

A low rumbling sound met them, and Harry looked just in time to see the rest of the bridge crumbling away into the ocean, taking its soft golden glow with it. He wasn't sure if he saw any limos tumble into the sea with it—it was too dark to tell.

On shaking knees, Harry forced himself to his feet. He couldn't believe it. They'd made it. Harry heaved in a deep breath, the scent of the air absent of the smell of rotting fish and years of garbage. It was just the salt of the sea, the fresh breeze of clean air. He opened his eyes and everything looked so _clear_ without the haze of exhaust and dirt handing in the air. And beyond, the sea stretched on for an eternity, uninterrupted by any barriers. The world had suddenly grown to ten times its size.

"Captain!" someone called from the bow. "They're going to see us!"

Harry looked towards the distant Auradon shore and though it was the dead of night, he could still make out more and more lights flickering on, no doubt good rule-abiding citizens waking up from the "Revenge"'s little escapade.

Without a moment to lose, Harry flew down the stairs to the main deck, and down further to the cabins below. He blew by Uma's cabin, the having left unopened since her disappearance, and into his own cabin. He started shuffling through jewelry boxes atop a stack of crates along one wall. Jars and bottles clinked together as he pawed through them, each with their own glittering potion inside.

Uma had long since refused to have anything to do with her mother's "magic," but Harry had found the endless elixirs and sparkling recipes to be entrancing—and very useful in the possible future. This lead to him hoarding a stash of nicked potions and spells, collected over the years. And if Uma had anything to say about it, she usually kept it to herself aside from the occasional disdainful look into his cabin. Now, however, it looked like his years of thieving from a sea witch was going to pay off.

Among a sea of multi-colored potions, Harry finally found what he was looking for—a tiny bottle filled with a sky-clear concoction. Without a second thought, Harry smashed the bottle to the floor. From the point of impact, a wave of what looked like heat haze spread across the floor boards. Harry raced the spread of magic up the stairs, making it to the main deck just in time to see the spell spread across the rest of the ship and masts. A grin spread across his face. While he and the rest of the crew could see the "Revenge" solid beneath their feet, anyone on the outside would see right through her and anyone on board. They were invisible to the outside world.

"We did it, matey's!" Harry called. He unsheathed his sword and aimed it towards the castle in the distance. "Unfurl those sails! We ride with the tide! "

A cry went up along the ship as everyone ran to their positions. "Tie down the jib and tack us the other way!" Harry ordered. "Gil! The boom!" he called, swinging his sword up and catching Gil in the chest with the flat of the blade before he walked right into the path of the swinging beam.

After it passed, Harry stepped back into his swagger and started walking down the deck. He didn't get far before—

"Harry!"

A muscle in Harry's jaw twitched. He was going to have to gag Gil if he didn't stop being so annoying. Actually, that didn't sound like such a bad idea. Harry filed that idea away for later as he turned to face his first mate.

"That's _Captain_ Harry to you," he said with a grin.

"What were you _thinking_?" Gil demanded, shoving Harry hard in the chest.

Harry laughed as he stumbled back. "A good deal more than you, I'm sure." He reached up to ruffle Gil's hair and paused, noticing for the first time the blood sliding down the blond's temple.

Anger flared in him once more. "What the bloody hell," he spat. "I told you to get a lifeline!"

"You could have killed us!" Gil said, ignoring him. "Even I could tell that!"

"Um, did you _die_?" Harry asked.

"That's not the point!" Gil argued. "Uma would've never been so reckless!"

At the sound of Uma's name, something in Harry snapped. " _Uma's not here!_ " he roared, making Gil take a step back. "She left us! I'm Captain now!" Harry continued. "And you _do not_ question a captain's orders!"

Gil eyed Harry warily. Surely, the boy was used to his outbursts by now, but it was unsettling all the same.

"Uma cared about the safety of her crew," Gil said. "About the safety of her first mate at the very least. I thought that would've meant something to you at least."

The words struck Harry like a sword swing and all of a sudden he could see nothing but the blood running down Gil's temple. Gil. He'd hurt Gil.

"Gil," Harry said, his anger having sizzled out.

But his words fell on deaf ears as his first mate turned away to march down the deck.

Regret surged at the edge of Harry's mind as he watched his only remaining friend walk away, but he pushed it back. He couldn't worry about feelings now. Instead, he turned back towards the nearing shore. He had a mission.

By the time the "Revenge" had found a secluded cove along the shore near the Auradon Prep castle to anchor in, and Harry with a few select crew members had taken a dingy to shore, the night had worn on and the early signs of dusk had started to show across the horizon. Harry and his crew scaled the cliff leading up to the castle, no harder than scaling the countless lines on the ship. Working on a guess that the king would be staying in the highest room in the tallest tower, the little rag-tag group scaled the far side of the castle from the sea. With everyone scrambling to figure out why the bridge had collapsed, no one would be thinking to look the other way to find a band of pirates stealing their king.

When they clambered into the room, Harry's suspicions were confirmed. Royal blue tapestries hung from every wall, framing a bed that alone looked larger than Harry's shipboard quarters. The king's symbol that Harry had come to hate was stamped, embroidered, and painted onto every available piece of furniture, including the huge oak desk standing in the corner, covered in official-looking documents.

It looked exactly as Harry had thought it would, except for one, small detail—the room was empty.

The bed was long-cold, with the sheets in disarray. All the lights were on, meaning someone must've woke and left in a hurry.

Harry cursed himself, swinging his sword at a lantern and shattering it. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. Of course the King—the arrogant little prick—would be called to duty as soon as the bridge collapsed. Harry doubted there was a single person in this damnable castle that was still asleep and in their beds after that.

Coming here had been a stupid idea. Ramming the bridge had been stupidly impulsive. And Gil—damned _Gil_ —had been right all along. Uma would've never been this stupid. She would've never enacted such a poorly thought-out plan.

Harry was about to lead his men further into the castle for nothing more than to find someone to fight to release some frustration—when someone appeared in the door.

"Harry? What the hell are you doing here?"

A grin split across Harry's face, a wild laugh escaping him. He couldn't believe their luck; maybe this night wasn't such a waste after all.

"Why, hello beautiful," Harry grinned, his hook glinting wickedly in the light. "We were hoping you might help us find something very valuable. Your boyfriend."

Mal stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and completely defenseless.


End file.
